One Super Instructor, and by Super, I mean Superbly Terrible at Making Excuses for His Below Average Night Landing Skill

My instructor almost ran over the lights along the runway today. I'm sorry, I mean tonight, as it was my first lesson on night flying. I'm pretty sure, as he was telling me how perfectly he was lined up with the centreline, that the wing of my plane was over the edge of the runway. I was cringeing waiting for a wheel to take out a few of the lights. I thought to myself, 'at least if you're going to wreck stuff, wreck the entire thing, because this plane isn't going to be worth the repair bill'. And then, when he finally touched down and clued into the fact that the Fargo's right tire was barely a mere foot from the edge of the runway, he told me it was because of the crosswind and that he hadn't put in enough crosswind control.

See, apparently, the wind was coming from the south, according to him. Now, my directions are not very good. Often, I have to think quite hard and look at my compass to know which way is south or north. But, as far as I'm aware, wind coming from 240 is not south. At least I don't think it is. Not only that, when you're coming in on runway 24 and the wind is at 240, is that not pretty much a headwind? How much crosswind control is required for a direct headwind?

Okay, so my instructor has established the fact that a direct headwind requires crosswind control, but then how much is necessary? If the headwind is at 4 kts, does that require a great deal of crosswind control or a little bit? Is a 4KT headwind going to make you clip the lights along the edge of the runway? Because I could have sworn his misalignment had more to do with the fact that when he was telling me he was lined up with the centreline, the tires basically flew directly over the blue threshold lights on the right side of the runway indicating that indeed he was not lined up with the centerline but with the far right edge. I would think that probably had more to do with not being lined up than the wind. But, what do I know? I am merely a student and he is the all-knowing instructor. And, he did have proof. The windsock was his testament to his lacking any responsibility for his terrible landing. I mean, it must have been as he did say to me, "See that windsock? See the crosswind?" As if this would make it true. And perhaps it did. People see lights in the sky at night and are sure it is a UFO. Or, shadows in the Okanagan Lake and are certain it is a mythical creature from the deep. But I digress...

Where was I? Oh yes, I did look at the windsock and was immediately confused. By crosswind, once again, did he mean the fact that the tail of the windsock was hanging straight down at the ground and the head of it (you know, the open part that the wind blows through, and once again, that is the technical term) was directly parallel with the runway? Because if that's a crosswind, I don't know what the hell I was doing when the wind was blowing perpendicular to the runway. Would that be called a headwind then? So-named due to the fact that blows along the side of my head? I guess I must have had my terms wrong all along.

Oh, wait a minute, it must be a headwind due to the fact that it was stirring the hairs on my head when I got out, as opposed to the so-called crosswind that was blowing when my instructor landed. You know the kind of crosswind I'm talking about, the kind that's completely non-existent apart from in an instructor's head to save face? Because I can tell you, when I landed my plane (after I myself was lined up with the centreline until my instructor with his crooked eyes and imaginary crosswind grabbed the controls from me and forced the fargo onto the edge of the runway despite my counter-pulling to line it back up) and got out, the imaginary crosswind did not stir a hair on my head. So I must remember, for future reference, that a crosswind is the kind of wind that doesn't actually blow but does line the windsock parallel with the runway, and it also has the ability to pull down on the right side of the controls so that the airplane veers dangerously off-course on the flare and subsequent touchdown, therefore making the owner of the plane rather cross about the fact that it was nearly totalled. That must be why it's called a crosswind.

And in that case, I hope I do not encounter too strong of a crosswind again while landing with my instructor, because I'm pretty sure if it was any stronger than it was (and once again, I mean any stronger than 4 KTS because that's what was called in on the LWIS although I'm pretty sure it was much less than that seeing as the sock was hardly moving at all), it would have unbuckled his seat belt and pushed the passenger door right open, thereby knocking my night-landing-impaired instructor right onto his ass. However, in that case, you'd think he will have been rather happy he couldn't line the plane up with the centreline, because landing on the grass would be a lot softer than the tarmac.

Unexpected Nosedive

Today I learned the importance of the checklist. More specifically, I learned how important it is to respect the items on the checklist and if one is a little iffy, make a point of ensuring it's absolutely okay before taking to the sky.

Let me back track a little. My son, who is two, recently decided he will no longer go to daycare. he screams and cries and pitches a fit when I try to drop him off, so that the lady that runs the daycare cannot handle him. So, I thought to myself, fine. I guess I have a new flying buddy since he was left in daycare specifically so I could do what was necessary to complete my commercial licence. Today was his trial flight.

I need to build time and cross country flights, but wasn't about to take off without knowing exactly how my little terror would behave, so I figured I'd keep the flight local for the first time. Then, if he behaved and allowed me to fly without too many interruptions, I'd try him for something a little longer. And it seemed like it might work. He ran around the hangar and played while I got everything ready, and he sat patiently while I fueled up, something I really didn't think he'd do, but seeing how the weather wasn't the best, I wasn't about to go up without any extra in case I needed to wait or divert to a different airport. So, all in all, on the ground, I was rather impressed. I guess a toddler waiting to fly is like an angel waiting for its wings, you just don't know if they're from heaven or hell until they take to the sky.

So, now we get to the checklist. I had him strapped in a car seat (5-point harness to keep him as immobilized as possible) and he sat anxiously waiting to fly. Even with the Fargo being as small as it is, I could still use my flaps and when I tested my controls, they seemed good enough. Yes, his little boots could reach the controls and when I tried to do a full deflection, I did have to move his legs. But it seemed like it'd be fine. He asked if he could drive, and I said no, and he seemed rather contented with my answer. Looking back now, I have a new personal rule. If in any way any part of the controls are within reach, either by hands or feet, of any person under the age of 5, the flight is over right then and there.

So, as I had not yet made this my personal mantra, we took off. Things were fine. For about a minute. And then, he started fiddling with his headset. Taking it off. Then wanting it back on. Then throwing it on the floor and then yelling at me to get it back. But not to wear it, only to play with it. In nice calm skies, I could probably have handled it a little better, but the air was choppy and turbulent and I didn't want to take my hands off the controls. So I tried to ignore him; a very hard feat since he couldn't hear me without his headset so continued to grab my arm and yank so I would listen to him.

Finally, we seemed to find some kind of rhythm. I managed to find an altitude that was the least turbulent and my son seemed to be falling asleep. I took the opportunity to look around and enjoy the new fall colors, the leaves were changing colors and the crops were lined up in perfect swaths. It was turning out to be a beautiful flight. Until suddenly, my stomach turned on itself and we were diving. In a moment we would be part of the farmer's harvest and I didn't know why I couldn't get out of the dive. Then I looked at my son. His eyes were big with excitement and both his feet were firmly planted on the controls, his legs stretched out as far as they could go. He was using every ounce of strength he had to push. He said something to me, but as I was wearing a headset and he was not, I don't know what it was. Something like, I flying, but I won't know for sure.

I swatted his feets down and yelled, No, and then pulled back on the controls, further intensifying the sinking feeling in my stomach with the change in attitude. Ugh. At least my son also felt it and didn't particularly like the sensation, judging from the look on his face. Not to mention he was rather upset that his mother curtailed his chance at flying when he was obviously quite proud of himself.

We went in after that. He was angry with me. I was worried he was going deaf from not wearing his headset. Nonetheless, my yelling at him didn't stop him from attempting to push open the window nor from pulling on his door handle (good thing the Fargo has a lock on the passenger side, since it doesn't on the driver's and it would have fallen open for sure) or throwing his headset at me.

To make a long story short, if there is any part of the checklist that is iffy, such as, your overactive two-year-old son can prevent full deflection of the controls, take that seriously. Since I've gotten my licence, most flights have been a learning experience for me, and I definitely learned my lesson on this one. Now, to find another daycare...

Pilot Crashed in Maple Ridge

I've decided I need to get a little more "world aware". So, this morning, instead of wasting time on the usual social networking sites, I figured I'd check out the CBC news website instead. There was little of interest to me, or very little I wanted to be interested in. It seems the news propagates only fear (swine flu epidemic) and negativity (young baby stabbed by father) and I just didn't want to let it pull me down on an already miserable Monday morning. So, I clicked on the BC site, hoping there was a little more positivity in my local province.

Now, a plane crash in itself probably isn't very positive, but it was something that affected me directly, in the fact that the story detailed the crashing of a piston-engined 2-seater aircraft. Hmm, I thought to myself, it's probably something I should read about seeing as that could easily be a story about myself, or, I would read it so I would know exactly how not to make it a story about myself. Unfortunately, the article left much to be desired, as these types of articles usually do. It simply stated that the pilot crashed into a golf-course and sustained some head injuries but survived nonetheless.

Although I was interested in the crash, I didn't want to know simply that the plane crashed and the pilot walked away (well, from my understanding he was carried away as he was semi-conscious when paramedics arrived). I wanted to know what happened and why. Did he simply run out of gas from not checking beforehand? I've heard that is very common and since this is something I have complete control over, I would be able to take from this incident the reminder to always check my fuel before leaving on any flight. Or perhaps deteriorating weather was to blame? Basically, I wanted to know if this was something the pilot could have prevented himself or if it was some kind of a freak accident that came out of the middle of nowhere. Because if he could have stopped it from happening, I feel secure knowing I'll just ensure I take the necessary precautions to prevent something similar from happening to myself. And if it was some freak accident, well, obviously I can't worry about that.

Also, these articles never tell what the pilot was thinking or feeling. Did he panic? Or was he super calm and cool and this was the best he could have done. Does he practice forced landings all the time? What kind of a pilot was he? New? Beginner? Bad? Good? This is what's important to me in any kind of a plane crash article. Why? Because I need to know where I stand and how I might measure up in the same kind of situation. I need to know that perhaps this guy crashed, but he should have checked his fuel, so as long as I do that, I'm safe. Or, I need to know that he crashed because he freaked out in the cockpit and couldn't see properly as he forced his aircraft into a field. Also, I would love to know his detailed pilot report because then I would be able to tell myself that this pilot crashed because he only had a few hours on the plane, and as long as I keep my hours up, I'll be fine. And, I don't know the area he was in. Was there a better field nearby? Or was this the only one he had to go for and he was lucky just to have made it?

When I looked into things further, I learned that the pilot was a 60-year-old male who was flying a homebuilt aircraft that he built in 2000 and has flown all over the country since then. They labeled the cause as engine failure, I think the engine cowling came off. So, I'm not sure you could really label it as a freak accident or not. He was quoted as being very surprised this happened in the first place.

So, what do I take from this? I'm not sure. One, I will check and recheck the screws on my cowling as they tend to come loose and fall out far too often. Two, I will go out and practice some more forced landings, so that when the time comes to put it down, I know that I can do it and hopefully save myself from panicking in the cockpit. Three, I can't really worry about it, can I? Just continue to do what is in my power to prevent accidents and trust that I can handle the situation when it comes. Because if I worry about it, I'll eventually get to the point where I'll be too scare to commit when I am supposed to rotate and become airborne.

Burn Out

I am sitting at home, in front of my computer, wasting time on the internet when I should be flying. It's dark out and I should be working on my night rating right now. But I'm not. Why? I'm not sure. The desire to fly is not there. Actually, that is not true, I want to fly, I just don't want to train.



When I was working on my private licence, I was desperate to finish. The freedom to fly by myself, whenever I wanted, was enough to push me through the doldrums of flight training. Tired or not, I was running out the door for my flight lesson, because every hour I spent training got me just a little closer to my PPL and the ability to fly unsupervised. Now, however, I've got my PPL so I can fly whenever I want (during the day, hence needing to work on my night rating), with whomever I want (as long as it's one person and not a very large one at that), wherever I want (within the very low powered limits of the Fargo). This makes running out the door for a flight lesson much less motivating. Actually, I can't even seem to motivate myself to pick up the phone and call my instructor to set up a lesson, nevermind make it to one that's already been planned.



I guess you could say, I'm burned out. I pushed myself pretty hard during my private licence, so now, I just want to enjoy myself. Fly for the fun of it. And what's worse, when I go up on my own to play around or take someone for a little sightseeing, I fly better than when I take up an instructor. The moment I know someone's not monitoring my heading and airspeed (not to mention everything else), I seem to keep it steadier than ever. Then I end up feeling completely relaxed and contented by the time I've tied down my plane and walked away from the airport. Something that doesn't seem to happen after a lesson.



I wonder if this is the case with everyone or if it's just because I have my own plane on which I trained and now fly. If I was simply signed up for a commercial program and lessons were the only opportunity to fly, I'd probably appreciate them a great deal more. I used to say that purchasing your own plane and training on it was the best way to get your licence. In fact, I wondered how people without an airplane managed since they couldn't go fly and improve whenever they wanted once they'd gotten that coveted pilot's licence (well, they can, it just costs a great deal more). But now, I'm not so sure. I still think every pilot should have a plane at their disposal to use any time the weather is perfect for a flight (or not so perfect but good enough) and I do actually feel sorry for those who don't. However, having my own plane has allowed me to fly without the supervision of a school and it's really hard to go back to the "student life" again. It's like I've had the best spring break ever (or seeing as it's September I guess summer holiday would work just as well) and have to leave the sun and fun for books and teachers. Who knew getting my commercial licence would make me feel like a kid again.

Frustrated!

Can you learn to fly without actually taking a lesson? Because I have to say, lessons can definitely take the fun out of it. I'm fully aware how important it is to fly with an instructor, I mean, I really still feel like I have no idea what it is I'm doing and the only way to learn is through an instructor. The problem is, when I'm out by myself (or with a passenger) I don't feel all that bad as a pilot, but when I'm up with an instructor who is constantly correcting every little thing, I get completely discouraged.

Now, I'm making it seem much worse than it is. I think it's not the corrections from the instructor, because they have every right to keep you on track, in fact, it's their job to do so. The problem is the entire dynamics of flying. When you're driving, or really, doing most vehicular tasks, you have to worry about two things at a time, your speed and your direction. Speed and direction is basically managed with your throttle (gas pedal in a vehicle) and RPMs, and your direction is managed with your method of steering. Two things. That's basically it. If you can master that, then you're pretty much good to go. Even if you can't, as long as you can keep yourself on the road, you're not going to have too much trouble.

Airplanes aren't so simple. You do have to worry about speed and direction, but then the whole thing called altitude is thrown into the mix. So now, you must keep your speed, heading (direction, of course) and altitude steady, and even though adding one extra element into the mix doesn't seem like such a big deal, it is. It's not like throwing in an extra vegetable into your salad just for fun. It upsets the entire dish; your salad has become a quiche (if we're still on the cooking metaphor). Now, increasing or decreasing your throttle doesn't only affect your speed, it now affets your altitude. And not only that, but your steering also affects your speed and altitude because now you have to direct yourself side to side and up and down. Not only that, but then you have to be able to keep everything steady without looking outside (if doing your instrument rating), which you've been doing for almost the entire duration of your private licence. And then, to make matters worse, it seems like the moment you focus on one thing, the others fall apart, and that's when the instructor starts yelling.

So, I'm not complaining so to speak, I'm just frustrated with the whole nature of flying, or flight training. You take one thing, an airplane shall we say, that really isn't exact. It tips. It dips. It goes one way then the next. It can go up and down and side to side and it takes a great deal of effort to keep it steady. But then you take aviation and aviation training and everything about it is exact, or the aim to be exact. Maintain your heading within 10 degrees, maintain your altitude within 50, maintain your airspeed within 5 knots (that may not be correct, the Fargo is in mph so I'm not quite sure what it is in knots) but then you go and hit some turbulence and lose everything. It's just rather irritating, especially when you're a "good enough" kind of a girl.

So, in lieu of whining and complaining, if I plan on adding a commercial licence to my list of accomplishments my disorganized, mediocre self is going to have to find an organized, mutitasking perfectionist. I just hope she's in there somewhere. Then again, how often do any of us simply drive along the road. And if I can stay on the road while putting on the song my daughter wants and handing my son his sippy cup while getting to skating practice on time, I must be able to maintain my altitude, heading, and speed.